Part 4 - Payback Can Be a Perra
by Lancer1968
Summary: Scott's Revenge


Payback Can Be a Perra

Summary: Scott's Revenge

(Part 4)

Any and All Disclaimers Applicable

The Same Hot Summer Day – Green River

Scott poked his head into the Sheriff's office, saw that Johnny's pal, Sheriff Val Crawford was seated in his chair with his legs extended, boots resting on the top of his desk, while he sipped coffee and perused the latest wanted posters.

"Oh, hey Val, can I interest you in something cooler than that?" he questioned, as he pointed towards Val's notoriously atrocious coffee.

"It ain't even noon, Scott," he replied not looking up. "What are ya doin' here? Your pa give ya time-off for good behavior?"

"No, he didn't. He gave me the day off because of Johnny's trickery."

Val sputtered his hot sip of coffee out of his mouth, dribbling down the front of his shirt, as his boots hit the floorboards.

"I see that you know precisely what I speak of," smirked Scott. "At least my brother told me the truth about this," he added as he entered the office and closed the door to lean against the brick wall to glare at Val.

"Johnny 'fessed up? When?"

"Oh, it was very early this morning when he came clean about his culpable behavior by his deception of his ownership of double-headed coins. I was wondering if you had taught him that scrupulous sleight of hand stunt."

"Me? No, Scott, that's not anything I taught the boy. I knew he had one doubled-headed coin that he found somewhere in Yuma. He told me that it was his good-luck charm. Only found out yesterday that he had two coins that he used."

"Is that a fact?" Scott asked.

"Yup, that's a fact," growled Val. "Now, look, I told him that he needed ta stop usin' 'em on ya. What happened 'tween here and Lancer that made him 'fess up ta all his prankin' ya ta get out of his chores?"

"Near as I can tell, it was partially you, partially Jelly giving him the what for and Murdoch waiting up for him last night to have a chat with him."

"Where's Johnny now?"

"Up to his eyeballs in steer testicles I imagine," grinned Scott. "Castrating them."

"Oh."

"Not what you were expecting, I gather," Scott said dryly.

"No, can't say I thought of that. Your father has his moments of bein' diabolical when he wants ta, I see. Guess this is his symbolic way of nippin' things in the bud," he laughed.

"More or less," chuckled Scott. "However, I still need to payback my little brother for his deception. I thought perhaps you might know of something that would be suitable. Everything I think up won't do the trick."

"Now Scott, I don't wanna get in the middle of ya two," Val said.

"Seems to me, Sheriff Crawford that you already are stuck right in the middle, since you were aware of Johnny's imprudent ways by the sheer fact that you and he were thick as thieves, drinking beer, laughing it up, I suppose. While I was out of the hot sun, pulling my weight and his. The very least you can do is offer up some ideas."

Val shrugged his shoulders, "Ya know one of these days, ya two are goin' be parked in those cells, waitin' on your pa ta come bail your asses out of there. I already told Johnny this, now I'm tellin' ya."

"Well, Sheriff today's not that day. So got any suggestions?" pressed Scott.

Scott continued, "We can rule out doing anything that will cause bodily injury, or adding any hot spices to his food since he likes things hotter than anyone, and nothing that will cause too much damage to property. I'm okay with a little bit, as long as it's not over the top."

"Short-sheeting his bed?" asked Val.

"No, he barely uses any sheets now."

"Lock him in his room so he misses supper?"

"Murdoch would just send me to get him," said Scott. "Come on Val, we need something that makes an impact."

"Well, I do know of one thing, but ya pa ain't gonna like it," Val drawled. "And it will take some plannin', coordination and timin' on your part ta put it off. Leave me outta it."

"Do tell," said an amused Scott. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, Val. What's your idea?"

"Well, it's like this…" said Val, as he offered his idea to Scott.

# # #

"I like it," Scott declared as he slapped his hands together.

Val shook his head, "I repeat, keep me out of this. Let me know when ya think your goin' pull this stunt. I don't wanna be anywhere near the final outcome. Got it?"

"Got it," Scott said as he shook Val's hand. "Now, how about that drink? It's on me."

"Thought ya would never ask," groused Val. "Your brother better still help me sell off those damn Indian blankets after this, or ya become my new silent partner."

"Agreed," grinned Scott.

# # #

That Evening – Lancer Ranch

Johnny was dead tired on his feet. Upon his return to the ranch, he bedded down Barranca, almost asleep on his feet; before he forced himself to the bath house, where he discarded his grimy, bloody, stinking clothes to the floor. He crawled into the tub, after hauling buckets of hot water, and leaned back to rest. He closed his eyes to stop seeing testicles swaying in front of his eyes.

"Madre de Dios!" he swore, "I had no idea there was so much involved."

At Lancer the method used to castrate was cutting, which required a strong stomach, lucky for him he wasn't squeamish.

Ciprano had demonstrated the process where he cut open the tip of the scrotum to pull out the testicles. He had winched multiple times during this demonstration. Depending upon the animal sometimes he cut them off, and sometimes the cords were pulled until they disconnected. Johnny felt the pain that the animal did, judging by the loud crying the animal made during the process.

Ciprano had told him that it was "doloroso por un tiempo, pero la salud y el bienestar a largo plazo del animal no se vieron comprometidos." (Painful for awhile, but the long-term health and well-being of the animal wasn't compromised). He sure hoped that was a fact.

Next, Ciprano squirted iodine on the wound to prevent any infection before he turned the entire process over to Johnny to do, all day long. He had multiple knives to use but each one had to be cleaned after the process, which required they keep a fire going to disinfect the blades. "It had ta have been a hundred and ten out there," Johnny thought as he soaked in his bath.

Johnny swore to himself, that after today's labor, he would never again push his chores off to his brother. Murdoch truly had made his point.

# # #

For days, Johnny was more than willing to make-up to Scott for his past transgressions. He was the first one to rise and before breakfast had curried and saddled Scott's bay, Blaze, along with Barranca to tie them outside the main house ready for the new day.

Johnny was even going above and beyond his regular chores to pitch in even when he didn't have to. The kitchen firebox was kept full, as was the great room's fireplace log box. He made an effort to even carry his empty plate and Scott's into the kitchen and haul buckets of water on laundry days. Yes, Johnny was being on his best behavior.

And Scott noticed how consolatory his brother was behaving towards him. He was polite back to him, with a certain degree of his Bostonian reserve on display. "Let him stew in his own juices, for now," thought Scott. "Serves him right."

Johnny was indeed stewing, as he wonder about one of Scott's parting comments to him the morning he confessed his scheme, "You owe me! No correction, I own your ass!" He didn't know if Scott was deliberately tormenting him by not saying anything or if his brother was up to something. Scott's face never revealed a thing. Since Johnny was no longer riding into town several days a week, because he was too tuckered out by the end of the day, Johnny was concerned that he was turning into a dull boy. He usually turned in before Scott and Murdoch did. Falling fast asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

"Goin' ta bed," he yawned. "'Night."

"Good-night, son," said Murdoch as he looked up from his latest newspaper.

"Good-night Johnny," Scott said.

Murdoch paused from his reading to look at Scott, "He's attempting Scott to make things up to you, ease-off."

Scott looked-up from his book, "I know, Murdoch. I can tell that he's working hard, I'll ease-off in a little while."

"Alright, son, don't take much longer; he doesn't need the added frustration of you being distant towards him."

"Yes sir," he agreed.

# # #

Fourth of July, the start of another hot Summer Day – Lancer Ranch

Scott was ready to make his move, as soon as Johnny had slipped out of the house to tend to his morning ablutions before tending to their horses. Scott was up and on the prowl. He tip-toed to the outhouse and quickly inserted the board that he had placed on the side of the small framed building the night before to latch the door tightly shut. His brother wasn't going to get away from his payback that he was doling out right this minute.

Underneath the small building, was the end of a fuse that he struck a match to light the fuse, dropping it back on to the ground, watched as it sparked and disappeared under the frame of the building.

Laughing, he ran away from the outhouse, just as the report from the fireworks inside the outhouse started.

The booms, bangs, buzzing, hissing, crackling, humming reports from inside were deafening, as was the yelling from inside the small box, where he hoped that Johnny hadn't dropped his drawers along with his rump into the hole of the prewired framed box that supported the hole. This was where the fireworks had been installed to make a full impact on upon his brother.

"Happy Fourth of July, Johnny!" shouted Scott in the direction of the outhouse. He doubled over laughing as he imagined the look upon his brother's face, when he realized that he couldn't escape the small building.

"What the hell?" Johnny asked as he ran alongside Scott after exiting the barn. "Scott, what's goin' on?"

Scott turned to gape at Johnny before turning pale, "Johnny, I thought you were in there," he pointed towards the outhouse where the report of fireworks were in their full glory, where even some of the sparks flew out the moon-shaped cut-on on the door.

"Nope, not me, Murdoch beat me ta it this mornin'," Johnny pointed towards the outhouse. "Good thing, huh?" he smirked.

"Mur-Mur-Murdoch is in there?" stammer Scott.

"Yup, ya might wanna get that door opened, Boston," grinned Johnny as he slapped his brother on his back.

"OH SHIT!"

Scott ran to the outhouse to slide the board from the handle to release it. He stepped back as Murdoch flung the door opened, knocking it off its hinges with a look that told Scott that he was in for it.

"Which one of you did this?" shouted Murdoch, his clothes, face and hair were covered in muck.

Johnny was shrewd enough to not move any closer to the outhouse, as he held Teresa and Marie from stepping closer. Jelly had come running from the barn with his shotgun in his hands, as he drew up his suspenders to his shoulders from his trousers, the tail end of his night shirt flapping in the breeze he made from running closer, then backing up from the stench that permeated the morning air.

Scott gasped at his father, at what he had done to him, "Me," he whispered. "I thought…"

"You thought that your brother was in here," snapped Murdoch.

"Yes sir. You want me to prepare a bath for you, sir?" he offered.

"Well what do you think, Scott," he yelled. "From this point forward, in your own words, I own your ass, young man!"

"Yes, sir," said a chastised and horrified Scott. "I thought that my plan was fool proof."

"Well, you're the fool that devised it," Murdoch yelled as they walked towards the bathhouse.

Johnny grinned as he said, "Pagar es una perra." (Payback can be a bitch).

~Fin~

Sun Dancer

Moral of the Story: The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. No matter how carefully a project is planned, something may still go wrong with it. This expression is adapted from a line in "To a Mouse," by Robert Burns.


End file.
